


All, for nothing at all

by Lar_cries_over_fandom



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I just wanna adress what happened with techno, L'manburg War, dream smp season two: electric boogaloo, i just have so many feelings for this funky little pigman, no beta we die like everyone except techno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lar_cries_over_fandom/pseuds/Lar_cries_over_fandom
Summary: They still dared to call him a traitor.“You betrayed me first!”
Comments: 13
Kudos: 131





	All, for nothing at all

**Author's Note:**

> I just don't know. I saw techno's stream today, and he sounded so sad when he said everyone kept taking his stuff

It wasn’t that he was feeling regret, per say. He didn’t regret any of the things he did. He didn’t regret helping his brothers out, making them a small farm, mining and stacking up on everything, farming experience, making potions and armor and tools for the revolution, showing them his secret base or letting them take everything they needed. 

He did not regret that, because he knew it was the right thing to do.

(  _ He didn’t regret killing Tubbo afterwards either. ~~Or Tommy, or Fundy, or Karl, or Nikki, or Bad, or Antfrost, or anyone else~~. He didn’t regret bringing the two Withers to life _ )

All the hours spent mining, sweat clinging to his body, muscles tired of doing the same movements over and over again. The time he was hunting and killing mobs, body moving on autopilot because his mind had already given up on trying to be aware. Going to the Nether because he could tolerate it better than his human friends  _ (allies, he told himself, they were not friends) _ . It wasn’t his place to complain about how it still felt hot,  _ too hot _ , and that if he still had burns all over from fighting blazes, that was his problem.

(  _ The Nether wasn’t all bad, still. After all, he had found six wither’s heads, didn’t he? _ )

That time was not wasted, because it served a greater purpose. He was on the right side.  _ He was right _

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

He was right.

He knew.

Of course they were going to want a new president. They had fought hard to bring L’manburg back, they had fought hard to establish themselves in power again. didn’t even bother with an election, the title of ‘president’ being handed from person to person like it was just a word.

Of course they didn’t even think of Technoblade. The one that agreed to help them because he wanted to bring the government down. The one who has on multiple occasions stated that he was an anarchist, first and foremost. Who cared if they were still wearing his armor? if they were still holding his weapons?

With Dream just whispering by his side? He had been ready for a 1 v 10, but he certainly wasn’t opposed to anyone else siding with him.

  
  


They all went with a bang. 

And another

And another

And another

Then the button was pushed, and L’manburg exploded the same way his inhabitants did.

(  _ Except one. One died in a half blown up room, a diamond sword through his chest, being held by his father’s still shaking and bloodied hands _ )

He lost count on how many times he had killed his allies, over and over again. And that was without taking the Wither - the Wither _ s _ \- into consideration.

  
  


.

.

.

.

They still dared to call him a traitor.

_ “A traitor to who?” _ he wanted to scream  _ “I never lied to you! I helped you, I fed you!” _ he knew he would never say it.

_ “You betrayed me first!” _

.

.

.

.

In the end, L’manburg blew up, one brother died at the hands of his father (He understood. He would never blame Phil for what he did) the other one didn’t want to ever see his face again (“ _ do you want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one” _ )

He was used to being alone. He certainly did not need friends, was fine with being public enemy number one. And if his family was in shambles, well, what else could he do.

(  _ He was lying to himself and he knew that. He was used to being alone, yes, but almost every time it was by his own choice, his need to isolate himself from time to time. He didn’t know how to deal with being abandoned by the ones he trusted the most. Betrayal is one thing, not a new one for sure, but his own brothers? the people he came to consider friends? Even if he was not surprised, the ache was there  _ )

But they still weren’t happy, were they?

Now that everyone knew the location of his base, they didn’t stop going. The chests in his secret chamber, once full to the brim, were now empty. There had been some leftovers from the war, things that they wouldn’t need during the fight so they got left behind. there weren’t anymore. His personal chests, the ones he told them not to touch because they were  _ his _ things, barren of anything useful. Even the hidden ones had been opened. there was nothing left.

(  _ The piglyn in him was screaming to just kill everyone. How d a r e they touch and steal what was rightfully his _ )

.

.

.

.

Hot, white anger was all that he could feel. The fire inside him, begging to be let out and start another bloodshed. The need to slay everyone until he could take back every single item he lost, until they would feel the same pain he had felt getting said items. The pain he had felt the moment they said the word ‘president’.

But he would not do that. Even if everyone seemed to agree that he was a heartless monster who had no sight except for battle, he knew what fights to choose. And that wasn’t even worth it.

  
  


So he did the next best thing, and just walked away.

Walked, because they had even stolen Carl. He could only pray his horse was fine.

And he didn’t stop, not until his bones were like gelatin, brain filled with mud and eyes closing themselves. His legs were about to give out, skin burnt from time spent on the sun. His now cold sweat making him feel sticky and gross.

He walked until he found a new place he could call home. It was a snowy area, close to a village, and so very cold. He decided he liked the place.

It brought him memories of better times, when his worries had been only of how to annoy everyone in the easiest way possible, not on how he could get what few belongings he still had without having them stolen away.

( _ At least he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone killing him. The only thing he seemed to agree with them was that he could not be killed, and if someone ended up being able to do so, it would certainly not be anyone form the government _ )

So yes, he didn’t regret anything. He just hated always being right.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are really appreciated!


End file.
